Unsexy Thoughts
by Tricki
Summary: Amanda McKay is having a seriously hard time keeping her mind on the job. It isn't entirely her fault, in fairness - she completely and utterly blames Simon Lloyd.


AN: I can't think of one. Enjoy.

Set: During the mediation in St Crispin's Day.

Pair: Oh, guess.

Disclaimer: If I owned them... oh God, the world would be a better place :P

**Unsexy Thoughts**

_Think non-sexual thoughts, Amanda. NON sexual. _

_Fuck. That was definitely sexual. _

Amanda McKay is having a seriously hard time keeping her mind on the job. It isn't entirely her fault, in fairness. She completely and utterly blames Simon Lloyd. Of course, he isn't distracting her deliberately; in point of fact she highly doubts – no, is _completely_ _certain_ – that he has no idea that she's fiddling with her lip because, not to put too fine a point on it, she has the overwhelming urge to jump him. It actually concerns her that while he's doing a perfectly fantastic job of arguing their case, all she can think about is shagging him senseless.

_What does that say about me? Maybe I'm a necrophiliac and I just never realised it? Wait... that's not right...  
Nymphomaniac! That's the one... Now, do I like that shirt enough to undo the buttons, or would I just pop them?_

Of course he is _talking_ about sex, so it's not a colossal leap. Words including 'penetration', 'orgasm', and 'clitoral stimulation' are just a few that have fallen from his full, entirely lovely lips in the past minute. She exhales shakily, picking at her lips and watching his. They seem to move in slow motion today. Her eyes flicker up to see his, dark blue with thought and conviction, sparkling a little from putting that brilliant mind to use – filled with compassion for their plaintiff in the anteroom. That strikes Amanda, makes her think about why she scary-L-words him.

That, in turn makes Amanda's brain shift modes a little, and she goes from wanting to literally tear his clothes off his body and have her wicked way with him right there on the conference table at the mediation centre, to wanting to spend at least an hour kissing him very slowly and deliberately. Her eyes slide back to his lips.

Because really, she's sure he has some pretty serious skills; he is the literal fastest learner she's ever known. He seems like he'd be too good to waste, too good to rush. Like a box of exquisite, expensive, handmade chocolates versus a block of Cadbury. Of course, you can love Cadbury chocolate, and be satisfied by it, but it doesn't really matter if you scoff it. There will be more, and it will be _all _the same.

On the other hand, you feel some sense of obligation to savour the good handmade ones. They're rare and precious – who knows if you'll eat them again? You eat every one as slowly as you can, hoping to milk the most enjoyment out of it; hoping to remember it.

She definitely wants to remember him. She imagines beginning to kiss his jawbone – _these are not unsexy thoughts, Amanda -_ his throat, - _Kind of antithetical to non-sexual, Amanda. Stop! - _and is about to move down and unbutton his shirt – _what's the antithesis of non-sexual? Oh yeah, SEXUAL. What is...?_ when she realises she is actually a part of this mediating process, and Simon's lips have twitched in that was that lets her know the ball's in her court now.

She picks up the mediation as if nothing has happened, as if she isn't practically dribbling at the thought of ravaging her co-worker, her very good, very dear _friend_. She reasons, she lawyers, she feels an electric charge that she cannot stifle between herself and the man next to her, and none of this is new. She doesn't expect it will actually ever change.

Because, really, he's married, and he's a man of routine, and she's whimsical and at times a little flighty and definitely _doesn't_ eat dinner at the same time every night. When she thinks about it like this, it's wrong and it always will be. But still, in the back of her mind – okay, the front of her mind, something mutters clichés like "opposites attract" and "two negatives make a positive", and her old favourite: "you love him anyway. Doesn't love conquer all?"

When she can find an answer to that, she might stop trying to restrict her sexy thoughts.


End file.
